


Be Mine

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Spell Trouble [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Pre-HYDRA Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:45:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy is going to get the SHIELD security guy assigned to her and Jane to smile. Who cares if it takes a lot of Daddy jokes?-An itty-bitty prequel to Music To Cast Love Spells By-





	Be Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

“We have to pretend _what?”_ Darcy asked.

“To be a married couple living together and sharing a place with Jane,” Maria Hill told her. The dark-haired stranger—one of SHIELD’s elite commanders—said nothing. “You and Agent Rumlow will attract less notice this way and he will be able to protect Jane now that,” Maria paused delicately, “she and Thor appear to be on a break. We expect this to be temporary until this recent round of threats has been eliminated.” Things were up in the air with Thor and Jane because Thor had returned to Asgard after the Battle of New York without seeing her, but Darcy had hope. She had been putting citrine for happiness and turquoise for healing around the apartment and the lab.

“So, we have to pretend to be all loved-up?” Darcy asked. She eyed the Rumlow guy dubiously. He didn’t look like a guy with that kind of vibe. He was, well, not tall, but definitely dark and handsome in a brooding way. _Maybe I can handle this,_ Darcy thought to herself, taking in the good hair, cut-glass jawline, and appealing five o’clock shadow. That impression was dashed when he spoke.

“You should take these threats seriously,” he said flatly. “This is no time for amateur hour with your taser, Lewis.”

“Gee, I thought I was taking them seriously since I _came to SHIELD for help_ over Jane’s objections when we got those emails. You almost didn’t catch that IED, Mr. Professional,” Darcy snapped. The device mailed to Jane’s lab had been connected to the weird anti-science, anti-women threats Jane had been getting from someone dangerously insane. Darcy suspected one of those online manifesto weirdos: either it was the Unabomber 2.0 or some guy really furious that women weren’t falling all over themselves to sleep with him. Ironic that she’d need to pretend to be sleeping with the security guy to solve this one.

“IED?” he said wryly. “We in Basra now? Did I miss something?”

“What’s the correct term then?” she shot back.

“Pipe bomb,” he said.

“This is really an academic discussion,” Maria said, “I just want you two to play well together until this threat is resolved.”

“Fine,” Darcy said. Jane—already bummed about the issues with Thor—was Darcy’s first priority.

“Rumlow?” Maria said expectantly.

“I’m a professional,” he replied.

 

Brock felt slightly sick: he was embedded in HYDRA, working secretly on Fury’s side, when Pierce asked him to cozy up to Foster. Pierce wasn’t particular about his methods; Brock could do whatever he liked. Approach Foster as a SHIELD agent, a romantic interest, a potential scientist. Brock had gone straight to Fury. Fury and Hill had cooked up this scheme to satisfy Pierce and give Foster adequate protection from any genuine HYDRA agents, in case Pierce got more ideas. The difficulty was that Brock had taken one look at Darcy Lewis in the flesh—curly, wild tresses, lips stained red, curves revealed by a plunging top—and immediately lost all meaningful blood flow to his brain. _Focus,_ he scolded himself. _Stop staring at the tits and imagining her naked, goddammit._ He had not anticipated distractions. Normally, he guarded liver-spotted senators with one foot in the grave or perhaps, a scientist who resembled Jasper Sitwell, not someone like the too-sexy, too-young woman standing in front of him.

He followed her out of Hill’s office. Every time she moved, her silver earrings jingled against that dark hair. He thought she actually smelled like a hothouse full of flowers, although he didn’t know how that was possible. _I’m so fucked,_ he thought, before it dawned on him that was precisely the worst thought possible.

As he rode the elevator down with her, an array of tantalizing sexual visions played in his imagination: him hiking up her skirt to fuck her on a conference table, her wearing lingerie in his bed, those full lips wrapped around his dick, him pounding her until she cried out his name. He wanted all of them. Yeah, it had been too long since he’d had sex. He and his former fiancée—a fellow SHIELD agent--had split several months before. She had left him for Maria. He was fine with that. Just fine. Anna was wildly happy, that much was obvious, and now he had an explanation for the strained atmosphere of their relationship, the lack of intimacy at the end, and his sense that she’d always held him at bay, emotionally, never really confided in him. He knew all of this rationally. It didn’t help the lack of blood flow to his brain when faced with Lewis in an elevator, however. He was gonna have to get his dick under control.

 

“Jane, this is Brock. We’re in love and getting married,” Darcy announced, when they entered the lab. She’d decided to treat the whole crazy thing as a joke.

“Don’t joke,” the Rumlow guy said, as if he’d read her mind.

“What’s going on?” Jane said, frowning. She looked tired, Darcy thought. Worn out from the stresses of working too much and missing Thor so much that she’d finally decided it was over. Darcy thought that maybe Jane had intended the declaration to make Thor finally appear, but he remained frustratingly absent. It was _sad_.

“I’ll be your security. Twenty-four seven. We’re posing as a couple. Fury’s idea,” Rumlow said clearly and slowly.

“A married couple,” Darcy said dryly.

“For this teaching job you’re taking,” he said. Jane and Darcy were leaving the DC-New York zone frequented by the Avengers, just to give Thor some space.

“It’s not a job,” Jane said. “We’re just doing field research and I’m working on my book. It will be very quiet outside Las Cruces.”

 

They landed in New Mexico and drove up their rental car to the desert observatory. The area was isolated, distant from the bustle of Las Cruces, and mountainous. Brock had imagined they’d be at the university, not driving out past ranches in the remote parts of the county. When they got to the correct road, Brock got out to unlock the gate. It was padlocked. There were lots of potholes on the road, Brock thought. It looked...shabby? Scrub brush everywhere. They finally reached a building. It was clearly empty and abandoned.

“Holy shit, Jane. What is this place?” Darcy said.

“This building was part of the old Blue Mesa Observatory,” Jane said glumly. “We’ll be working here. I rented it. We’ll be staying at a cabin on the Collins B&B, too. It’s three miles that way. Or that way, I’m not certain.”

“Oh no,” Darcy whispered.

“What?” Brock said.

“I let her make the arrangements because she said she wanted to do it. I thought that was a good thing, her showing an interest,” Darcy said.

“But it’s not?” he said.

“It’ll be the Bates B&B. Oh God. Oh God,” Darcy muttered.

 

“What are you doing?” Brock asked, when he found her, an hour later, cleaning.

“Scrubbing like a bubble!” she said cheerfully. “I totes stole that line from _Dharma & Greg, _by the way. Highly underrated show. They haven’t even released all the seasons on DVD, which is a pet peeve of mine.” She was leaning over a table, which offered him a tantalizing glimpse of her lacy bra. Navy blue, he realized. He had been a SEAL.

“Uh-huh,” Brock said. He’d caught himself just before he licked his lips again. “Can I help?”

“Yes, abso-fricking-lutely. I never turn down assistance,” Darcy said.

“Haven’t you turned down a SHIELD job for a year?” Brock asked.

“That’s all Jane,” she said. “Not me. I would have said yes months ago, for the healthcare plan and 401k and whatnot.”

“Yeah?” he said.

“Yuh-huh. I like having enough money for good coffee and name brand Pop Tarts and not having to pay out of pocket for my allergy meds. It’s the little things, really,” she said. “Also, there was a couple of years where I couldn’t, like, watch medical shows because we weren’t well-insured enough for me to survive the freaky _Grey’s_ accident of the week. I had to fast-forward to all the good scenes of people having sex in the basements or whatever.” Brock tried not to laugh. They spent most of the day scrubbing and cleaning, while Jane gave instructions for where everything should go. Darcy seemed to treat this as normal, so Brock played along. He was both more and less worried about HYDRA incursions. On one hand, the likelihood of Pierce sending someone out here and them actually stumbling onto them was pretty slim. But if they did, there was nowhere to tell Jane and Darcy to run to--in his imagination, they’d been in a reasonably-sized town with shelter-in-place options for a shootout. He was trying not to be distracted by his fake wife’s amazing rack and odd sense of humor. She was hilarious. But he wasn’t technically supposed to let that distract him.

 

The B&B was exactly as terrifyingly quaint as Brock had feared. Worse, he and Darcy would be sharing an antique four poster bed with chintz drapes. There were only two bedrooms. He set down their bags with a sigh. He was an average-sized guy and she was a pocket Venus, but the bed seemed small. “Well,” Darcy announced behind him, “this is the room of my personal nightmares, hubby.”

“Hubby?” he asked.

“Do you prefer DH for ‘dear husband’ instead?”

“Brock is fine,” he said.

“Yes, babe,” she said wryly. “Can we hide that horror show? By we I mean you, of course.” She pointed to a porcelain doll and murmured something about creepy murder dolls.

“Uh-huh,” Brock said. She went to scope out the bathroom.

“Oooh, claw foot tub, Daddy! Did you want a bath?” she said loudly.

“Daddy?” he said.

“I’m role-playing,” she whispered, emerging with a grin.

“Role-playing what?” he asked.

“Ditzy assistant with a thing for your whole deal,” Darcy said, waving her hand at him.

“My deal?” he said, looking up from their bags.

“Badass mystery man who leaned into Dirty Harry as a role model and has rescued poor little me from my own helplessness?” Darcy suggested. “I just can’t do anything without you,” she teased. “I’m so fragile and delicate, Daddy.”

“Why do I tolerate you?” he asked, crossing his arms and trying not to let his amusement show.

“We have amazing sexual chemistry and I let you tell me what to do at night, too?” Darcy said. She was trying to make him crack a smile. He merely tilted his head.

“I’ll take that shower,” he said. “Alone.”

“Okay, then,” Darcy said, waggling her eyebrows. “I can sense when my sexual harassment is unwanted.”

 

He told himself that it was just that he’d left his clean clothes in the bedroom, that was the only reason he came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. It wasn’t that he wanted her to be impressed by how fit he was or how dedicated he was to his training--shit, how was he going to train in this hellhole? He would need to get a boxing bag for the lab, he was thinking, when he opened the door. She was on the phone, sprawled on the bed, surrounded by some of those sparkly rocks she seemed to carry everywhere. “I love you, too. I’m so excited to plan the wedding,” she saying, before she hung up.

“Who was that?” he asked casually, reaching for his clothes in a duffel bag on the chair. She probably had a friend or a sister getting married, he thought.

“My fiancé, Ian--whoa, dude, flashing me much?” Darcy said, when he almost dropped the towel in surprise.

“You have a fiancé?” he said.

“You didn’t think I was _actually_ hitting on you, did you?” she said. “I’m not really a creep!” She dissolved into giggles.

“What?” he said.

“Technically, you’re the harasser, given the amount of plumber’s crack I just witnessed,” Darcy said.

“I’m in great shape,” he said defensively. “I don’t look like a goddamn plumber.”

“Okay, not plumber’s crack, that was probably less apt for your whole situation,” she said. “You’ve got more of a--hmmm,” she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully with an index finger, “I guess it’s more of a credit card machine buttcrack? Or that little thing you swipe your library card through when you do the self-checkout?” He glared at her and her and went back into the bathroom. “Did you not like that?” she called. He leaned out of the bathroom.

“I will not be harassed,” he said, shutting the door.

 

“Fuck,” he mouthed silently at his reflection in the slightly steamy mirror. This was going to be some assignment.

 


End file.
